


take back your own tonight

by badritual



Category: The Invisible Man (2020)
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Gen, Not Beta Read, Post-Canon, Vigilance - Freeform, references to past abusive relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:01:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29455680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badritual/pseuds/badritual
Summary: Sometimes, when the house settles on its foundations and the floorboards creak, Cecilia wakes up in a cold sweat, ears ringing, nightclothes clinging to her clammy body. Wakes up half expecting to see the merest outline of a man—a vague shape—looming over her bed.
Relationships: past Adrian Griffin/Cecilia Kass
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	take back your own tonight

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this after watching the movie and forgot about it!

At first, it’s difficult to get used to the idea that she might finally—truly—be _free_ of him. That she might actually be able to start a life that doesn’t involve constantly looking over her shoulder. Watching what she eats, what she wears, what she says. What she _thinks_.

Adrian is gone.

She had said that to herself once before and it hadn’t turned out to be true, but this time—

Sometimes, when the house settles on its foundations and the floorboards creak, Cecilia wakes up in a cold sweat, ears ringing, nightclothes clinging to her clammy body. Wakes up half expecting to see the merest outline of a man—a vague shape—looming over her bed.

The first few nights after she killed him, she jolts out of bed at the slightest noise and she’s nearly staggered to her knees at the lack of—well, it’s hard to explain. She’d gotten used to the feeling of being watched, at first with his camera lenses and then with his unseen eyes. She remembers gooseflesh prickling on her hair arms and the hairs standing on the back of her neck.

Now, there’s nothing. James’s house almost feels _too_ empty without Adrian’s oppressive presence haunting every corner, every shadow.

She doesn’t _miss_ him. But she misses—no, that’s not the right word, either.

There’s an aching emptiness where he used to live inside her—where their baby grows, now—but she doesn’t miss him. She misses who she was before him. Who she could have been. Who she’ll be now, without him.

She _doesn’t_ miss him.

Cecilia crawls out of the bed and stubs her toe on one of her duffel bags, stuffed to the brim with everything she’d rescued from Adrian’s place. She can hear the jingling of dog tags, the soft huffing of breath as Zeus stirs at the foot of her bed.

“Go back to sleep,” she whispers.

Zeus snuffles loudly, but Cecilia can hear him settle back down.

She climbs back into bed and wraps herself up in her blanket, Zeus’s presence a solid weight at her feet.

Sometimes her mind likes to play tricks on her, teases her with the possibility that _he_ might not truly be gone. That she might not have killed him.

Sometimes, at night, she imagines the slightest bit of pressure or puff of breath against the back of her neck. There’s never anyone there, she’s certain of it.

Mostly, she’s certain of it.

But there’s always a small sliver of doubt that lodges itself under her skin.

On most mights, Cecilia wonders if she’ll ever truly be free. On most nights, she tosses and turns, unable to fall asleep.

Tonight, though, she feels safe. Zeus’s even breaths steady her. The knowledge that James is just down the hall steadies her.

Tonight, she’s able to fall asleep.


End file.
